This burned van doesn’t create the least bit of confidence. But my next location can already be seen in the background.
And there it is, the former former soap factory I already mentioned. It opened in 1892 and in 1900 it was the biggest soap manufacturer in the country. This factory was built in the late 1920’s, when the original, wooden factory buildings had been destroyed by fire.
The company stopped manufacturing soap in 1987 and rented out the premises. The last users were car hobbyists and artists. The building was in such a bad condition that they were eventually thrown out.
Although considered historically significant, the museum authorities won’t demand protecting the building because of its condition. Decades of manufacturing have caused chemical buildup in the structure and it would be impossible to rebuild it into anything useful.
And so it has become the land of abandoned vans.
And I have managed to snoop to the right side of the gate. Notice the beautiful red Volvo back there.
A better look at the building without the gates obstructing.
The yard was a mess.
But guess what! I found an opening!
There was a central corridor with garages on both sides. The walls have obviously been built after soap production ended.
The garages were equally sized, dirty, thrashed and smelled of oil.
The walls between them were very badly made.
In fact so badly, that there were panels only on one side of them. The pillars look quite interesting.
People have left all kinds of things behind when their leases ended.
The people in this garage don’t seem to have cleaned up at all.
There was a larger space at the end of the corridor.
In fact it was the largest space I had found so far. The supporting structure here was different, too.
There was something which looked like an office cubicle, and a loft with something, which looks like a sofa. This is how I imagine the garage culture being like: listening to rock, working on cars and chilling on a sofa with a beer.
Ant that is what it probably has been like judging by the interior.
The wall says fuck off followed by a name. The name looked familiar, I did a little research. We went to high school together.
The text in pink is a surname, quite a rare one actually. I know one guy from our town, who has that surname and is called with that surname, not his first name. I believe he has made that tag.
I really seem to have come back home.